


Private Room

by smutisthenewblack



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Christmas Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-08-28 11:33:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8444242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smutisthenewblack/pseuds/smutisthenewblack
Summary: When you're at the very bottom of your life, when you keep falling without any hopes for a bright future, when there's nothing good left all you need is a person with whom falling won't seem so disgusting.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Private Room](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/238897) by valera.. 



Deep December evening. Bare streets, lightened only with the continuously flickering light, coming from street lamps and the decreasing moon, the light from which isn't more than from a match. The light from the windows of houses are barely noticeable because of the closed curtains, so it's hard to notice the lonely man, walking down the sidewalk. The guy’s heading to the quite small three-storied building at the end of the street with quick steps. An insistent breeze blowing curls into his eyes, and he reaches up to tuck a strand behind his boyishly-small ear. Opening the door with force, he steps into the bright hall, approaches the reception area, quiffs his curls and smiles at her with his adorable smile. The latter, greeting him with formal phrase, hands him the catalogue. The boy puts tricks in all necessary spots that are too familiar, puts on the counter an impressing amount of money and following the girl's instruction, sits on the soft coach, waiting to get what he paid for.

Harry styles never was an exemplary boy. Alcohol, drinking, sometimes even drugs, constant parties, sometimes not in the best places and messy sexual life. From slight flirting to dirty moans, take place every single night, seducing countless girls one after another and feeling a slight disappointment every time he doesn't succeed. But paying for sex is unacceptable for him. For him, a handsome boy with incredible enchantment and charm, able to get what he wants with just one smile, paying for sex is simply humiliating. Well, it all was so until half a year ago, when one of his doubtful friends brought him here. Everything has changed since then.  
The smiling manager appears in the hall again and asks Harry to follow her. She knows perfectly well that he doesn't need her guidance, that he can find the needed room with closed eyes but the rules require not to leave him alone until he enters one of the various rooms of this building. They approach a wooden door, the manager unlocking it with her key and Harry walks into the room, where the boy is looking forward to seeing him again.

Half a year ago he came here for the first time and since then his life couldn't return to its familiar track. Half a year ago he walked into this room with ardor of an experimenter and a slight dread leaving in this small, gloomy room his heart since then. And ever since that day he comes here as frequently as he can, knowing that here's someone waiting for him every day and hoping that he'll appear in the doorframe eventually. Sometimes it terrifies him, how things turned. That everything is exactly like it is. That it's impossible to change anything. That just one visit to public house could destroy all his life.

Harry closes the door behind him, rises his eyes and sees completely nude and craftily smiling Louis in front of him, inviting him to get closer with his finger. Styles smirks, roughly pulls him closer by his neck and crashes his lips against the thinner ones. His lips are soft and strong, capturing Louis’ lower lip between his and tugging it back before diving in again and parting the older’s lips with his tongue, sweeping it along the inside of his mouth. Louis kisses back hungrily, biting and then licking Harry's lower lip like he always does.  
Harry slides his hand up the older lad’s neck, fingers tangled in the back of short hair as he pulls Louis’ ear closer to his lips:  
"How many?" Fuck the greeting, they don't need that now, "how many have you sucked off today?"  
Tomlinson tries to answer but the words get caught in another passionate kiss and he lets the bigger take the guidance again. Harry's tongue makes its way into the older boy's moth, his hands caressing the soft skin under them. When Harry stops teasing his lips, he breathes out:  
"Six."

"Not bad," the curly mutters indulgently and lands his hand on the boy's ass, gripping it. Louis groans into his mouth, pushing forward and Styles doesn't even have to look down to know that his dick is already hard. Louis doesn’t fall behind as well. He leads Harry to the immense bed in the center of the room by his waist, without breaking the kiss, pushes him on his chest and the curly one sits at the edge of it.

Harry still doesn't understand, how that's possible that he's stuck in this whirlpool of feelings. This is too wrong, too improper too vicious even for him who's never shined with his perfect attitude. Louis had attracted him with his graceful movements, even though back then he sill was under the pseudonym "The vicious deceiver."

Bullshit. 

Yes, from the first sight Louis did suit that shitty nickname but after three days Harry found out that in front of him wasn't a professional seducer, but a lost baby who'd had to grow up too early and learn everything that he does every day for his work. Harry learned about Louis too much during the six months of their peculiar relationship.

Tomlinson, smiling softly, starts undressing Harry himself. He does that every time, slowly, cautiously taking off one piece after another and kissing the bare skin, biting exactly where Styles likes it most, madly long, teasing the barely popped out rib bones with the tips of his fingers, aware of how much the curly one likes it. Stops at both of their favorite hipbones, running his fingers along the drawn out contour at first and then, not bearing anymore, with his tongue as well, pleasing his own desire, even though he's not allowed to do so, since Harry paid to get satisfaction.

Styles has already stretched on the bed, enabling Louis to do as he pleases, knowing that Louis wants everything in a way just like he does. When the bigger one is completely naked, Tomlinson starts going upwards, dragging his lips along the skin, at first kissing the inner side of the thighs, ignoring his dick, finds the hipbones with his teeth again and runs his tongue along them, обводить gjyjyfgjn around the belly button. When Louis, brushing his teeth against them, raises Harry's right side from the lowest ribs to the last one, the latter moans shamelessly. His hands clench the red cover of the bed that no one bothered to take off but his fingers get stuck in Tomlinson's hair when he runs his hand along his whole body, from neck to thighs.

Louis knows that in spite of all accepted norm the nipple play absolutely doesn't turn Harry on, so he doesn't concentrate on them for a long time, rises more, to the collarbones. Leaves a trail of kisses on every of them, leaves a red mark on the concave between them, runs his tongue along Styles' neck, takes his earlobe between lips, bites the skin behind ear. Harry’s chest rises heavily, and his lips slightly part, unable to stop the light pant escaping his mouth, wanting nothing more than to smash his lips against Louis’. And so he does, grabbing Tomlinson by his neck and kissing his lips roughly that had managed to caress every centimeter of his body.

During six months they've had enough time to discover all the singularities of each other's bodies starting from their toes finishing with the top of heads. But they can't even compare this with how much they've learned about one another's inner worlds. Every single feeling, emotion, thought, everything. Harry knows how and why Louis is here right now, how his parents have died when he was only ten, how he had to wander around streets for four years in attempts to survive. He knows that at the age of fourteen the director of this brothel found him, took with her and looked after him and Lou started working here as a prostitute by the time he was sixteen. And also he knows that during the seven years of working here he still hasn't gotten used to the fact that he has to do whatever he does, knows that he wants to get out of here and have a normal life. He knows that Louis doesn't have anyone in the 'external world' except him and has nowhere to go. He knows how much Louis is terrified of having to live in streets again, knows that he's afraid of it so much, he's ready to pay a huge amount of money only to have a roof above his head.

Tomlinson, in his turn, knows that Harry, in comparison with him the spoiled guy, has agonized as well. He knows that his mother had left him to his dad, knows that the told father got carried away with his business and career so much, that he noticed what was happening to his son when he almost died from overdose. He knows that back then Harry wanted to die but survived in virtue a miracle and no matter that, a good relationship whit his father couldn't be saved. He knows that he buys off Harry so he won't make him demonstrate any parental feelings. He knows that it was always enough for Styles and he never complained.

They both live without parents. Both have never been someone's favorite. Both got lost in themselves and their own worlds. And both forget with each other, running away from problems and adversities. The world stops existing for them when they're together.  
Harry's hands trail down Louis' body with light touches, causing a rush of goosebumps to appear on his smooth skin, and he doesn't press on his lips no more, tenderly kissing cheeks and his chin. Palms slide down the sides of Louis’ body, running over his hips and curving around his ass, squeezing roughly as he pulls his hips into the smaller one’s. And Styles is convinced for the hundredth time that this is the most alluring part of Louis’ body. He tenderly parts the cheeks, his fingers making their way to the rather loose ring of muscles and he carefully enters a finger inside him. Despite all the men doing this to Louis, he can’t help but note how amazing it feels because this is Harry. And Harry is different. Louis doesn’t even compare him to others and it’ll take him too long to say out loud everything he loves about that irreproachable man with emerald eyes that he’s found himself get lost in so many times. As cheesy as it sounds, Harry is his savior and the only thing that can embelis Louis’ cheerless days with his presence. 

The caramel haired boy is brought back to his senses when he feels the long, sleazy finger curl inside him and he presses is ass back uncontrollably, groaning out loud, and Harry adds the second finger, scissoring them. Fingers get inside and out freely and just the thought about how many men did this to him today eats into Harry’s soul.  
His chest presses into Louis’, height towering over him as he stares down at him only inches from his face:  
“How many, Lou?” he whispers, his voice subtle, barely even audible but the older boy catches it anyway, “how many of them have been here today?” 

“The same…”

Harry’s eyes catch his face and there’s so much pleasure in his gaze, it drives Styles crazy. He pulls out his fingers, grabs Louis’ body, throwing him on the bed completely and commanding him to stand on his hands and knees. Grabs a condom from the bedside table, rolling it up his prick and slowly makes his way to the warm entrance, leaving wet kisses along his neck and shoulders from behind. Teeth sink into his skin before his tongue runs over it to dull the ache, soothing the gentle sting.

They don’t need words anymore; they can understand each other from half-word, half-moan, every movement telling something about one another and it may be unfathomable for others but in this connection there shouldn’t be anything surprising, in this connection everything is incomprehensible, every little detail. No one’s ever tried to understand something in their relationship back when they were just friends and no one’ll try to understand them now, when they’re together, even though together is an odd word, utterly ineligible for them. Even they can’t understand themselves, but they do understand each other perfectly and that’s what drags Harry here again and again, pay for a night with Louis, spending all his money that once were supposed to be for parties and drinks. And that’s exactly what keeps Louis waiting for him ever night: just the thought about the curly-haired boy standing at the doorframe of his room makes him bear all the perversions on his body. 

They instill hope into each other. 

It seems peculiar and unclear for everyone except the boys. They can’t do in other ways and don’t even know any. Louis starts worrying when Harry doesn’t show up in his room for more than two nights. Harry starts getting scared for Louis when he doesn’t see him for too long. They start missing each other. There’s a strong desire deep inside each of them to be in the same presence as the other. And that’s why they always end up together, in this bed, always scripted but they’ll never get bored. None of them. 

Harry enters into Tomlinson completely, till his hips are touching Louis’ asscheeks, filling him up and he is astounded from the staggering feeling rising up his stomach, warming up his heart. He’s always thought that one day the smaller man’s ass won’t be this attractive and will be fucked so many times, feeling something will be impossible, but every time he gets convinced that Louis will never let that happen. Harry licks into Louis’ mouth before leaning forward and sealing their lips together hungrily. He starts moving gradually, his hands running down Louis’ body to his dick gripping it. Louis moans lingeringly, throwing his hands back and hugging Harry by his neck with them. The curly haired is quick to notice the red marks on his wrists as he takes them into his own hands, kissing them one after another and knows full well that Louis got everything right. He holds Tomlinson’s body tan and shiny from the thin layer of sweat with one hand and keeps moving the other one, laying on his dick. He knows that none of them is able to bear this any longer so he moves to much faster pace, his motions rough and sharp, loud moans 

filling the room in every corner, merging into one. When Louis, coming, throws his head back on his lover’s shoulder, biting into his lower lip, Styles whispers at his ear hotly:  
“And with how many of them did you come tonight?”

“None…” he hears the answer and not taking it anymore, comes with a low growl. 

With the final luster of energy he pulls out carefully, taking off the condom and throwing it into the trash bin in the corner of the room, where are resting a few others, wipes his hand with a tissue and only then does he let him fall into the bed, beside Louis’ body. Tomlinson is breathing heavily with his eyes closed, chest rising and falling again rapidly and Harry pulls him closer, hugging and covers them both with a thin cover, feeling Louis collapse into his embrace. He knows that Louis is extremely tired and want to sleep and he may have already fallen into the kingdom of Morpheus, his weight feeling so subtle on his chest. A few moments later there is no heaviness heard in his breathing and Harry concludes that he’s fallen asleep. Harry stretches to get to his jeans to make sure the alarm is set so he can leave this place and looks at Louis. He thinks about Christmas coming soon and wonders if they’ll let him take Louis from here to his house for them to celebrate it together not in these dirty walls but in his place. Thinks of the wonderfulness of the possibility to take Louis away from here as soon as his contract is over with this ‘company’. Thinks of the fact that if he and Louis were together forever, he’d be the happiest man in the world. He falls asleep, imagining how they would spend an ordinary evening together.

Harry doesn’t force Louis to anything but he can always dream a little bit and he just hopes that their dreams will coincide.


	2. Chapter 2

When Harry offers Louis to spent the Christmas with him, Tomlinson agrees without thinking twice. He's not sure about Styles not changing his decision. Why does he need it anyway? Why does he need Louis? Absolutely not unequipped to the external world and only knowing how to seduce men. Even women with difficulties. He wants Harry to keep his promise with all his heart but also fears that it won't happen. He believes the guy, believes everything that he says, even though they talk rather seldom he knows that no matter what Harry will keep his promise, but the sticky fear doesn't want to release him for a second. That's why he feels like a weigh was risen from his shoulder when the manager walks into his room and says that Harry is waiting him outside. Louis is now completely dressed up and ready, he only grabs his bag and almost runs towards the hall, where the curly haired boy is waiting for him. Harry looks at him strangely and Louis understands that it's the first time that he's standing before him with his clothes on. It may be peculiar but not for them. Tomlinson approaches Harry and the latter takes his hand into his own. The manager isn't even surprised: she has been watching these boys for so long, that just smiles every time she sees Styles walking into the brothel. She doesn't even think about signing a new contract with Louis, although the last one is already coming to end in a month. She's sure that Harry won't let them sign another one. The manager instructs Louis, that is leaving this place for the first time for such long period, tells him that he has to be back after three days and not to think about escaping. Both guys nod their heads and go out. Tommo loudly breathes in the freezing air and smiles. Harry only laughs, looking at him and pulls him into the car. Louis moves his head from side to side, examining the city when they're riding down the streets. Of course he's familiar with all of this, has been here, even recognizes some shops where he got his clothes from. Rarely, but in his own. But now everything seems so fairy with Christmas lights everywhere, with the jovial kids and adults, rushing to their destinations. It attracts Louis to no end. He would give everything he had to be like one of those people. But he turns his head sharply when he spots a little kid begging for money or whatever people have to give him. Grabs the seat so tightly that his knuckles become white and tries to push away all the memories from the days when he was just like that. 

 

Looks at Harry, driving the car concentrated and only now does Louis understand how bad he is at driving. Louis doesn't know how to drive but he remembers how smooth his father would go round all the tussocks on the road, how he turned the car and parked neatly. And here is Harry, who stops every 3 meters, turns the car with great difficulty and even confuses the pedals. Styles almost hits one of the cars from the other row, hears a loud, indignant beep, and Louis bursts out laughing, making the poor driver blush. 

 

Very little is left to Styles' flat and when the car is finally parked, Tomlinson gets out with excitement and looks around, sucking in a breath. He's never been in this corner and he's a little scared even with Harry, but all his fears seem to dissolve when the curly one takes his hand and drags him to gates. Once inside, they toe off their shoes, and Louis goes to explore the room boldly. He even checks out the bathroom, examining every corner with interest and goes back to Harry, still standing in the hallway, whose smile is too wide if you ask Louis. He approaches him and pokes the dimple on his cheek. Styles blinks his eyes, surprised but not stopping smiling, nods his head. And Tomlinson laughs, loud and happy, jumping on the guy and Harry is quick enough to catch him. Louis wraps his legs around the taller one's waist and arms around his neck so tightly, that Styles digs between his collarbones with his nose, and continues laughing loudly.

 

"So good," he says with faltering voice and Harry can tell that Louis is crying right now, laughing and crying, and he gets his hysteria, pulling the boy's body closer "I feel so fucking good right now."

 

Harry bites his collarbone jokingly and drags him to kitchen. He seats the caramel-haired boy on the table and Lou smiles sillily, wipes the tears with his palm and kicking his legs in the air. Styles takes his hand into his own, using his free hand to wipe off the salty tears from his cheek with his thumb and kisses his lips tenderly. Louis leans forward, their fingers still intertwined and Louis grips Harry's shirt in his other hand. And it feels so ordinary but not for them. They both think about how strange it is to them. It's the first time they're together outside of that little room in the public house that Louis stays in, it's the first time they kiss like this, without any intentions to end it with sex, it's the first time... yes, everything is happening for the first time. Everything that is normal for the other couples is unusual for them, peculiar and even a bit wrong but both Louis and Harry want it to last forever. To be a common couple, to be able to kiss like this every day, that Harry could drive Louis to somewhere and the latter would laugh at his skills, to walk around, holding hands, to do everything that other couples do, but they have only three days and they'll try to fill them with warm memories as much as they can. 

Styles pulls away from Louis, pulls his hand and seats him on the chair this time. Smiles, walks to the refrigerator and pulls a big, chocolate cake from there, that he spent on all his previous evening.

"Happy birthday, Lou. Didn't know which one you like, so I made this. I hope you'll like," he says.

Louis looks at the culinary miracle in the boy's hands with wide eyes and kicks his lips. He's been celebrating his last ten birthdays in the brothel, but the cakes there were never tasty and Louis didn't like them. And his mother used to bake a chocolate cake for him. And now Harry. Tommo wants to pounce on Harry again, but in that case the cake would end up on the floor and he doesn't want it. Harry puts the tray on the table, right in front of Louis, and the latter raises his eyes to him.

"Is this... really for me?"  
"Of course for you. It's your big day, innit?"

Louis smiles cheerfully, drags his finger along the cake, getting as much chocolate on it as he can and licks it, closing his eyes in pleasure.  
"Wait, don't eat yet. I'll make tea."

"You'll make tea? For me?"

"Um, yeah, that's what I said, Lou"Harry shrugs his shoulders, "don't you want tea? Maybe coffee?"

Tommo shakes his head and releases the words from his mouth along with hot air,  
"No, tea is perfect."  
The last person who made tea for him was his mom. And now Harry. Lou follows Harry's every single action while making tea, wonders how he was able to hear the sound that the spoon made, hitting cup's walls, when the boy stirs it and when the cup is next to him, he wraps his hands around it, immediately pulling away because of the burning heat. Harry laughs and hands him a spoon, taking a similar one for himself, cuts a little piece and sending it to his mouth. Lou follows his actions fascinated and blinks, when the piece disappears in his mouth. Shaking his head, he cuts a piece for himself. 

 

Half an hour later Louis is all smeared in chocolate, smears Harry as well and even leaves a stain on the wall. All that is accompanied with Tomlinson's happy and even a little hysterical laughter and Harry's attempts to stay clean. Harry tries not to think about the fact that this is the fires day he's hearing Louis laugh, and the first time in a really long period that he is laughing. He tries not to think in general but just enjoy everything that he's given. He drags Louis to bathroom and Louis follows him implicitly, letting himself be pushed under the water fully dressed, pressed against the wall and kissed, kissed, kissed. Both are wet, bare feet sliding over the floor of shower, breath gets heavier, but they stay there really long, not pulling away from each other because who knows, when they'll be able to do this again? Harry pulls Louis out from there only when he understands that he's going to suffocate not only in the flow of feeling and emotions but also in the water, surrounding them in every way. 

When Harry, entering his room, takes off his damp shirt, Louis thinks that now he'll be fucked and thrown away because what else is he needed for? But Harry only gets fresh clothes from his wardrobe and changes into these. Then turns around and looks at astonished Louis and asks,

"Is it that nice, having wet clothes on?"

Louis shakes his head and answers in a low voice,  
"Sorry, got carried away with thoughts."

"Don't think, Lou, not now, okay?"

Tomlinson nods and Harry, grinning, pulls him closer, seats on the bed and starts taking off his shirt. Louis lets Harry undress him without any opposition and there's no end to his surprise, when Styles pulls out a new shirt from his bag and puts it on him. Louis watches Harry's hands that take off his jeans at first and then puts on another pair. He doesn't need sex? It was such a good moment to lay him on this bed and fuck and then throw onto streets, without money, without, maybe, clothes and without any hopes for the future for sure. But for some reasons Harry didn't do that and Louis seriously tries not to think about them. He'll think about it later, when he's in his room in public house again, all alone. But not now, when he's happy and seems like makes Harry happy as well. 

 

In the evening they sit on the couch in complete silence cuddling into each other tightly without even talking. Louis plays with Harry's curls and tries to remember when was the last time he spent his evening like this. Without clients, without pain in his ass. With the person whom he's in love with. Harry snuggles into Louis, letting him do with his hair whatever he wants. This cozy silence is so strange for him, since he's been celebrating Christmas with loud group of people, everything to get rid of that feeling of loneliness. It's almost midnight when Harry goes to the bedroom, asking Louis to follow him and the latter thinks that now will happen what he's been fearing all day, but Styles only takes off the cover, gets under blankets and calls Louis to join him. Tomlinson breaths out, does as said and relaxes in Harry's hands. They have fallen asleep a lot of times before this but usually Louis, being bone weary, fell asleep not because it was warm and convenient, nor did he fall asleep because of the viscous feeling spreading in his veins somewhere deep inside him, but because no strength was left to stay awake. And now he falls into slumber slowly, smiling through it. And Harry, that usually watches Louis fall asleep immediately, falls asleep first, snuffling softly, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, and Tommo's smile gets wider.  
On the next day they celebrate Christmas together, making turkey and pudding. Or more precisely, Harry teaches Louis how to cook. They're standing next to the stove in the kitchen, Styles explaining Tommo how to do everything but Louis doesn't even care, breathing in the flavor of Styles' shirt that he put on right after he woke up. The obviously big shirt is enveloped around his sleazy body, Louis even feels like he's sinking in that, and the curly one, seeing that in the morning, choked on air from how comfortable Louis was looking. He wanted to pull him into a hug long-long and never let go, which he did until he heard the sounds, coming from the smaller one's stomach. Only then do they go to make something but only after half an hour Styles understands that it was a shitty idea. Comfortable and murmuring Louis, standing next to him and not accepting any attempt to teach him only distracts him. Styles doesn't mind getting distracted, not at all but in that case fire is inevitable, so he makes Louis a cup of cocoa and seats him behind the table. At least now their eyes don't meet every time he turns his head and stopping everything to kiss Tomlinson till he loses his mind isn't the only thought in his head. But Louis can't sit quietly so after finishing his cocoa starts walking around Harry, asking how he can help him. Calm down only when Harry hands him vegetables, ordering to cut them. Styles is really worried that Louis will cut himself and he's not sure if he can handle even a little cut, but Louis does his job just excellently and he breaths out with relief. 

 

When the Christmas dinner is ready and eaten almost completely, the owner of the flat finds some disks of Christmas movies, comedies, melodramas and they even try to watch them, but no one pays attention to plot, their heads overshadowed from kissing continuously. Their breaths get heavier, kisses become hungrier and Louis' hands make their way to Harry's shirt, grabbing it and wanting to take it off. Styles, however, pulls away and asks:

"Lou, do you want to? Really want to?"

And Louis doesn't even need to answer Styles sees right through him. Of course, he doesn't. Louis' not sure if he'll ever want sex even with Harry because he's been fucked so many times that it's enough for the rest of his life.  
"Lou, we don't have to, if you don't want. We won't, it's not vital."

"And you... Won't you kick me out?"

"What are you talking about?" Styles doesn't quite understand. Since when does he want to kick Louis out if he wants him to stay here forever?

"Why are you with me? I'm worthless. I can't do anything. Why do you need me besides that?" Louis cries. Cries like a fucking babygirl but he can't help the tears that he'd been holding back for so long. Sniffles, hides his face in the collar of Styles' shirt.

"I need you," Harry answers with a hint of offense in his voice, "even if you were without legs, without hands and head, I would never kick you out as you say that."

He pulls Louis, who can't control himselm anymore, closer. Harry caress his hair, his back, plays with his fingers and he succeeds, now Tomlinson is only shaking, hugs him with his hands and whispers:  
"I'm so frightened... petrified... I don't want to go back, don't want to... I can't..."

"Lou, everything is going to be okay, just wait a little bit more, Lou, a tiny bit more."

Harry believes in his own words, he's sure that everything will be fine in the end. He only needs to instill that into Louis. 

***

They both would love to stay together as long as they could, but Louis has to go back to brothel. Tomlinson gets ready silently, putting his clothes in a small bag, smiles thankfully, when Harry puts his own shirt next to Louis', letting him take it. Harry drives him and Louis can't even bring himself to laugh at Harry's clumsiness, because in his head there are only thoughts about how he's going to be used this night like a fucking whore. Oh, he is a fucking whore. He's afraid that Harry won't come back, will leave him alone in the public house and then the boy will fall apart for sure. And he won't be able to at least commit suicide because no one lets them get close to sharp thins, ropes, pills and even if he tries to jump off the roof of the building, he'll only get traumas but not die, no. 

Harry can sense that Louis is thinking about something too bad so he get closer and kisses him in the lips lightly. The car almost smashes into another one from the second row but Harry couldn't care less. He wants Louis to cheer up, at least a little. He manages to clear the thoughts about suicide from Tommo's head and even cause a tiny smile to play on his lips but just as Louis is alone in his room, he falls on the floor, pulls his knees to his chest and sobs quietly, biting his fist. He's afraid without Harry and he's afraid of being left without Harry.

 

The next day Styles walks into Louis' room and doesn't see him standing near the doorframe, completely naked with a smug grin on his face and ready to get a hungry kiss. He sees Louis, sitting on his bed in Styles' shirt and hugging himself by his shoulders. Harry throws himself near Louis, puts his hands on his knees, spotting a few marks and hickeys on his body and trying to look into his eyes, asks in a low, barely audible voice:  
"How are you?"

Louis wants to lie but he can't. With tears in his eyes he shakes his head, saying:  
"Sorry, I'll be ready right away," he starts taking off his shirt but Harry stops him.

"No need to Lou. Come here."  
He takes off his own clothes, gets into the sheets, lays Louis next to him and covers them with a blanket. Louis rests his head on Harry's chest and hot tears start dripping on it. Styles tries to calm him, again, but this time he doesn't do so well. Louis is shaking badly, tears seem to never end and he grips Harry's waist in his hands, not believed get that he's real. Tomlinson was ready for him to never come back. For being left alone. For his life that'd started not so long ago to end and it'll become existence again. But Harry came, he's here with him right now, soothing, dragging his hands along his back and whispers:

"Wait, Lou, wait a little and everything will be fine."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't edited so sorry for the mistakes, if there are any. x

Harry comes every night. Enters the room, sees Louis on the bed, makes his way exe to him and they fall asleep together. He's there even at New Year, they celebrate it together, even smile and laugh. Harry wants to talk with Louis about moving to his place but he's afraid that his offer will be rejected. Gathers the strength to do only a week after New Year. Tommo's head is laying in his chest, Styles plays with his hair cautiously and, rubbing the red wrists with other hand. Louis said that its nothing but Harry knows how unpleasant and aching it is. Seems like those bruises, marks and hickeys are attached to his skin. So Harry always rubs it with tenderness, his touches always subtly and light. Trying to wipe those marks off. To never leave any more of them.

"Lou," says Harry, his voice barely audible.

"Hm?" Tommo's relaxed. After the hard day, when he'd been threaten like shit-which was the first time after a long period-he doesn't really want to move.

"I've got a new job."

Louis raises his head and stares into Harry's eyes. He doesn't understand what that means. He doesn't know what it'll lead to. He's frightened of every change in his life.

"You.. You'll be coming more rarely now?" asks the boy. Quietly, not above a whisper, afraid to hear in reply that Harry won't come here at all. 

"I don't know," Styles shakes his head, "I'll try to come as I frequently. Only, maybe a little later or sooner. Don't be scared, Lou. Everything will be fine."

"How?..." a faltering whisper escapes Louis' lips before he manages to stop it.

"Lou.. When's your contract coming to end?"

"It's till the end of January. Then I must sign another one."

Louis nearly shakes from the thought that soon he'll sign a new contract for a year, and then another one, and then another one...

"Don't sign the next one. Please."  
Harry breaths out so queitly, closing his eyes. Louis looks at him and says, with surprise evident in his voice:  
"You know that I can't. I have nowhere to go. I don't want to wander around the streets in an order to find a piece of bread again." The boy understands, where their talk is going, understands too well, but he can't accept it.

"Lou, come to my apartment? To live? Please.

"Harry, I... Can't.

"Why?" he's genuinely surprised. He doesn't see any reasons why Louis can't agree. He doesn't have any contracts. He won't live in streets. He won't be alone. The only reason that he can think of, is that Louis doesn't want to live with him but Harry tries to ignore it.

"Can't, Harry," Louis whispers, sniffing, "I'll be a bargain for you. I'm pointless and worthless. You'll kick me out right away and I'll have to come back here again, only then everything will be much worse. I don't want to. I'm afraid."

"Lou, no, don't be afraid, I'll never kick you out or leave you alone, you hear me? Lou," Harry turns the boy to face him and shakes him a bit by his shoulders. Tomlinson cries, tears streaming down his face, and he doesn't even try to stop them. Styles does it, though, again, once more, rubs Louis' head, his back, pulls to himself closely. Anything for him to calm down. Harry doesn't like when Louis cries, he always wants Louis to smile, revealing those cute little crinkles around his eyes.

"Hush, don't cry, no need to," he whispers, "Louis please, accept it. I need you. I don't want to imagine living without you."

"R-really? Harry, I... I love you."

The words fly off his lips and Louis can't hold himself again. This is their first time saying it. None of the two has ever said that until this moment and now Tomlinson regrets saying them, afraid of the response. He thinks, Harry will freak out, but the latter only pulls him closer and says:

"I love you, Lou."

Tomlinson accepts Harry's offer after all and Styles cheers up like a baby. They talk long and meaningless, falling asleep in each other's embrace.

 

In the morning Harry leaves and never comes back, and Louis finds out that they have a new manager in the brothel. 

Tomlinson has no idea how he'd have survived the next two weeks. He's petrified. Hurt. Sick. Disgusted. Alone. No matter what he loved the prior manager. He was grateful to her, she was the one to find her in the street and help. Despite leaving him here, she always treated him good. Better, than anyone else in here. In the last day she appears in his doorframe, saying goodbye and telling something really strange:  
"Don't give up, Louis. Whatever happens, don't give up. You're not alone," hugs him and leaves.

Since that day Louis doesn't see her nor Harry. The new manager turns out to be a formidable woman in her forties, not bearing any objections. He hates her from the first sight. First word. First movement. Since she'd been here Harry has never come to his room. He doesn't hear from him, doesn't see him. Only remembers. Remembers all the moments spent with him, all the words said by him, all his touches, his movements, everything that Louis could memorize. Louis sleeps in his shirt, Louis ol it's prays on that shirt. He's sick. He's scared and hurt, he's dying. But no one cares. Everything that he's needed for is to open his legs wide, lying under every client, letting do with his body everything that they want. He does just what expected, but with every man, walking into this room p, his heart sinks deeper with the realization thatk it's not Harry. Harry left,p. Harry walked away. Harry got that he didn't need Louis. Harry scratched his feelings. Harry took away the hopes. Harry destroyed his life. Tomlinson looks for something to end his life with but can't find anything. And only wraps himself in Harry's shirt, hoping that it'll help him get through this. It doesn't. 

Louis blames everything on the new manager. He doesn't know why her exactly but he sees all the reasons of his pain in her. He thinks that if it wasn't her, all these problems wouldn't exist. Harry would be there. But Harry isn't here, only the woman that hates him and whom he can't stand. Feels like she offers him to the most rough clients, that want to just ruin his body. The bruises and marks on his skin are more with each time, and no one's there to help him get through that. Harry left, leaving him alone. Louis doesn't blame Styles. He sees his point, why he doesn't want to come anymore, no matter what he says. Louis blames everything on the new manager and he's right.   
He's walking around the brothel, something he hasn't done in a while and hears a conversation between two girls that work there.

"That curly haired boy came last night again. Wanted to see Louis, screamed. Thought that Louis would hear him," says one of them. Louis stops in shock and tries to catch as much as he can. 

"And what did you do?" asks the other.

"You know that I would let him but the fucker would kill me. Soon she'll appoint a guard for his room, so that boy won't be able to reach there."

"I'm sorry for them both. Louis is sad all day, doesn't even leave his room, I was there a couple times to change the sheets and take the laundry. He's sitting there lifelessly, poor guy. Doesn't know anything. Why doesn't she let the curly boy visit him, anyway?"

"Says that boy-prostitutes are hard to find and Louis is a good one. So she wants him to stay in all costs. Only she isn't able to keep him forever. That boy will find a way to get Louis out of here. He doesn't come here every day for nothing."

At that moment Tomlinson come out from behind the wall and spots two girls: one works as an administrator, the second as a maid. They close their mouths astonished, lookinh at him.

"Is that... true?" he asks in a low voice, "he comes here?"

"Yes," nods the administrator, "they don't let him in, but he comes."

"Thank you," Louis breaths out and is about to run when he's stopped by the same girl:  
"Louis!"   
He turns around and she says:  
"He asked to tell you that he's waiting for you."

Tomlinson nods once again and runs to his room. Falls on the bed and cries from happiness. Harry didn't leave. They don't let him in but he comes. Maybe Louis should stop thinking about suicide. 

The next day the manager walks into his room with a new contract. Tomlinson answers vigorously that he won't sign it, at which the manager says:

"When you come back, don't even hope for normal conditions. You won't even get a separate room, got it?"

Louis doesn't care. If Harry doesn't let him into his apartment-and his life- and Louis will have to go back here, he won't care, even if they'll put him near the entrance with his bare ass, allowing everyone to use him for free. He won't feel that, he won't feel anything after that. Ever.

***

February 1st. In the morning Louis gathers his things and exits the brothel, dressed in light hoodie. He hopes, for the last time. He remembers that it's Harry's birthday, he wants the day to go well. He wants to make Harry happy. He reaches his flat by metro, knocks on the door and waits. A minute, second, third... no one opens. Tomlinson thinks that Harry's not at home. After all he has job, and it's his birthday, maybe he's celebrating. Louis sits down on the stairs, leaning on the cold wall with his shoulder. He waits for Harry and if anything, Louis will hear the words 'I don't need you' from his mouth. The boy doesn't even notice how he falls asleep right there, holding his bag close to his chest. Wakes up from the loud footsteps and the cold wind, getting under his hoodie, that isn't doing a good job in helping him to stay warm even inside the gates. Louis can hear footsteps coming from the stairs and a moment later Harry appears in front of him.

Stops, looking at the shaking boy, sitting on the staircase in shock.

"Louis..." he says, barely moving his lips, "what are you...? How did you...?"

Tomlinson gets up from his spot, still holding his bag and takes a step forward unsurely.

"I thought, you... I shouldn't have... I'll go... Sorry..."

Jerry doesn't listen to his banter, walks to him in quick steps, wounding his arms around him and leaving a shower of kisses on his face through the tears, whispers:

"Won't let go... here... hith me... mine... love..."

Louis drops his bag and hugs Harry by his waist with his arms. Digs his nose into the taller's neck and sobs. Styles drags him into the flat, grabbing the bag on his way, not taking his coat off, seats him on the coach and only then does he kiss him. Subtle, long, enjoying every second and every inch of those lips. The kiss is salty from the tears, but no one cares. The main thing is that Louis is there. 

"Happy birthday," Louis says into Harry's lips, when he pulls away.

"The best gift," he says, kissing again. Louis is still shaking and only now does Harry actually notice that.

"Have you been waiting for too long?"

Tommo shakes his head:  
"Dont really know. I fell asleep. Arrived here in one. Don't know how much has passed."

"God," Harry jolts out from his space, "tomorrow we'll buy you a new coat. Been sitting on the floor for for five hours!"  
He runs around the apartment, finds a blanked, wraps Louis in that and makes tea for him hurriedly. Calms down only when Louis' drunk all the containing of the cup and relaxes on the couch. The feeling of unreality is nowhere to be found, unlike the last time. Cozy and comfortable, Louis is sitting on the couch, in Harry's flat and styles doesn't really need anything else. Tomlinson looks at Harry, sharing the blanked with him and covering them both.

You're so... mine," says Harry before dragging Louis into another kiss. Tommo can't argue, and not that he wants to. His.

Finally, only his.


End file.
